Ethan caught on to what I was pondering, and his mouth curled into a tiny smile. “Dare ya.”
Those were my magic words. And also my nickname. The name Dara means “compassion,” but I preferred to believe it translated to daring. My mom claimed I was born fearless. I was the little kid who’d climbed to the highest branch in the tree, jumped off the diving board first, retrieved the lost baseballs from the scary old man’s yard when no one else was brave enough. I loved the thrill, the admiration in people’s eyes when I faced down something scary and won.
I was Dare-ya Shepard, the girl who never backed away from a challenge.
“Dara?” Aubrey called as I started in the direction of the junior jerks’ table, tray clutched in my hands. Intent on my goal, I ignored her.
As luck would have it, the guys stood up as I approached, leaving their lunch mess on the table as they set off toward the exit. I positioned my tray in front of my stomach and held it tight, angling past groups of people until I was directly in Wyatt Greer’s path. He didn’t see me coming; he was snickering to the guy next to him, probably bragging about the skinny kid he’d pushed into a locker right before lunch. This fueled my anger even more, and I rammed my tray into Wyatt’s abdomen as hard as I could without injuring my own organs in the process. He grunted and doubled over.
“Oops,” I said, slapping a hand to my chest. “I’m so sorry. Total accident.”
He scowled at me, wheezing like Ethan did during a particularly bad asthma attack. “Watch where you’re going, stupid,” he growled. Such a charmer.
One of Wyatt’s friends watched me curiously, a half smile on his lips. I’d seen him around last year. Justin Gates. Also a junior, and a really cute one too. Tall, blond hair, magnetic smile. Too bad he had such awful taste in friends.
“Sorry again,” I said to Wyatt. “So clumsy of me.”
Before Wyatt or any of his fellow cavemen could react, I turned and bolted back to the table, plastic tray still in hand. When I got there, Aubrey was shaking her head in disapproval and Ethan was laughing so hard, his eyes shimmered with tears.
“That,” he said between spasms, “was awesome.”
I grinned and sat down next to my best friend, flinging an arm over her shoulder. Her tiny body buckled under my exuberance. “Ethan dared me,” I said by way of an excuse.
She shot me a dark look, then another at her brother, and ducked out from under my arm. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s why you love me.”
Ethan smiled timidly at me and was just about to say something when tall, blond Justin materialized beside our table. All three of us shut up and stared at him.
“Hey,” he said, meeting my eyes. “Did my friend do something to offend you back there or what?”
For a moment all I could do was gape at him, amazed that someone as hot as him was talking to me. “Yes,” I finally said. He seemed more curious than angry, so I figured it was okay to be honest.
Justin smiled, showing off straight, white teeth, and I felt the impact of it all the way to my knees.
“In that case, good job. Very impressive aim.”
I smiled back, praying I didn’t have pizza gunk between my teeth. “I was shooting for lower, actually.”
His laugh, full and pleasant sounding, was even better than his smile. “That bad, huh? Well, I apologize on his behalf. Wyatt can be kind of a douche.”
“Kind of?” Aubrey said, and Justin turned to her, his smile growing. Aubrey’s cheeks went pink, making her pretty face look even more appealing.
“Okay,” he said slowly, his eyes glued to hers. “He can be a complete douche.”
“Much better.”
They laughed, and Justin shifted a few inches closer to her. Suddenly it was like I didn’t exist. The two slices of pizza I’d eaten burned in my stomach, and I cursed myself for actually thinking for one second a boy would be interested in me when my best friend was smart and talented and pixielike and I was . . . well, the exact opposite of all that.
Ethan watched his sister with a vaguely confused expression. He’d probably never seen her flirt; in Aubrey’s life, school came first, violin practice came second, and boys fell way down to the bottom of the list.
“Aubrey McCrae.” Justin leaned over, hands spread on the table, and grinned. “I’ve seen you around. You’re like some sort of violin prodigy, aren’t you?”
Aubrey flushed even harder and gathered her hair over her shoulder, unconsciously sectioning it off for a braid. She did that when she was nervous. “I just practice a lot.”
“She’s a prodigy,” I said, poking her arm.
Justin glanced at me like he’d forgotten I was there and immediately returned his gaze to Aubrey. “Well, prodigy, I guess I’ll see you around,” he said, gifting her with another luminescent smile as he backed away.
Aubrey gave him a tiny wave and loosened her hair, arranging it over her blazing face. Ethan and I exchanged raised-eyebrow looks.
“Thanks for introducing us,” he said, reaching for his backpack.
She smiled in a dazed sort of way, like someone who’d just been given fantastic news but hadn’t had time to process it yet. “Sorry. I was kind of . . . stunned.”
Clearly, or else she might have realized that Justin had noticed me first. But it was hard to stay bitter when she looked so damn giddy. I nudged her with my elbow and leaned in to whisper, “He’s cute.”
“I know,” she whispered back, then caught Ethan’s eye as he stood up to leave. “Try to avoid the hallway where the juniors hang out, okay, Eth?” she said to him in her normal big-sister voice.
“Yes, Mother.”
He slung his backpack over his good shoulder and left without another word. Aubrey watched him go, mother-hen face back in position.
“See?” I said. “He’s old enough to take care of his own problems now.”
“Says the girl who assaulted Wyatt Greer with a cafeteria tray.”
“I had no choice, remember?” I grabbed the tray in question and piled all the lunch trash on it. “Ethan dared me.”
three
Senior Year
MY PARENTS WORK WAY MORE THAN THEY USED to. My mother is an accounts payable clerk for a car rental company and does extra accounting jobs on the side. My father is a roofer and does extra construction jobs on the side. These side jobs started shortly after I landed in therapy for anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder. The matching dark circles they’re both sporting these days are for me, because they’re doing what’s necessary to make sure I’m okay.
Mom took an extra day off yesterday, but she’s back to working at the office this morning. It’s raining, hard, so Dad offers to drop Tobias and me off at school on his way to one of his leaky roof repair jobs.